


Taking Off

by TeamFreeWill12



Series: Learning to Fly [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Life, Gen, M/M, Mute!Cas, Part Two, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-29 11:05:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamFreeWill12/pseuds/TeamFreeWill12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part Two of a Three part series.</p><p>Cas is back at the bunker with the Winchesters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

It had been an eventful few days/weeks/months. Dean should be exhausted. And he was, regardless of his nap in Cas' room. But he couldn't sleep. There was too much buzzing beneath his skin, ringing in his ears, he just couldn't settle down.

So he headed to the kitchen for a sandwich he barely paid attention to, focusing on the dry erase board and its new notes.

 "Welcome home, Castiel!" was written in Charlie's bubbly scrawl.

Kevin had found some new, dangerous artifact while cataloguing. "If you breathe too deeply around it, you giggle like a little girl for hours."

 There were notes in Sam's handwriting as well, not welcoming Cas home or anything, just shorthand letting Dean know what he'd been up to. "Light show research, Crowley Watch."

Dean could read between the lines. There was something more there. He'd have to remind himself to ask Sam, if Sam didn't corner him first.

He chewed the sandwich and swallowed automatically, not really tasting what he was eating.

He thought maybe he could sleep if his stomach wasn't growling, so he put his dish in the sink to deal with in the morning and headed back to his room, stopping on the way to listen at everyone's door. All was silent.

It was maybe _too_ silent. Sleep wasn't coming, so he went back down to the kitchen to grab a beer, downing half of it on the way back to his room.

Like a worried parent, he silently opened each door to check on his kids. Kevin was sprawled face down, his arm dangling off the side. Charlie was curled up, facing the wall. Sam was on his back, his head elevated by a couple pillows.  

Dean made a note to ask his brother how he was really feeling.

He didn't stop once he hit his own room. A few steps further brought him to Cas' room.

He turned the knob slowly and opened the door as quietly as he could.

The bedside lamp was on, so he could see Cas just fine.

He was asleep. It was odd to see.

Dean hesitated with his hand on the knob. In their dreams, Cas had told him about his

nightmares, had witnessed them a time or two. He seemed to be doing ok, maybe he was tired from the trip, from all the work he'd put in before he'd left. Maybe he wasn't having nightmares.

Still, he hesitated. He felt funny about leaving Cas on his own his first partial night in the bunker, even if he'd been there before. He'd been injured and a little out of it the night he and Sam brought him back.

Dean felt a prickle of shame hit him when he remembered how he treated the then-angel. Maybe if he hadn't been such a dick to Cas, then Metatron wouldn't have been able to trick him.

_Dammit._

Yeah, Cas wasn't the sole blame for any of this, no matter how much he thought he was.

Dean swallowed hard and took a few steps into the room, closing the door softly behind him. He put down the beer and picked up the desk chair as silently as he could to sit it near the foot of the bed.

He propped his feet up on the mattress and crossed his arms over his chest.

Cas needed to know he wasn't alone in this, so Dean wasn't going to leave him his first night in a new place.

 

 

When Cas woke up, he wasn’t sure where he was for a second. The sheets surrounding him smelled different, but the blanket covering him was familiar, so he tried not to worry.

And then he spied his friend slumped in the desk chair asleep. With one look at the hunter, he was calm, he remembered where he was.

Cas’ breath caught in his chest. Dean had watched over him as he slept. Had he been thrashing around in the throes of a nightmare? Had he made enough noise to wake Dean? Out of necessity, he was a fairly light sleeper, had always had to be, Cas knew that.

If he had woken Dean, then of course he felt bad. But he couldn’t help but just stare in awe at the man with the most beautiful soul he’d ever seen in a human. Of course, he couldn’t _see_ Dean’s soul any more, but he knew it was there, just the same. Bright and gleaming, untarnished, even after all life had put him through.

He was being sentimental and having one of those “chick flick” moments, but he didn’t care. He was home, with his family, with his friends, with Dean. So he just sat up in bed, hugging his knees, just watching.

He didn’t have to wait for very long. Cas could tell when Dean was starting to wake up. His lips twitched, his eyes started to shift behind his eyelids. Cas smiled slightly as Dean stretched and yawned and finally opened his eyes.

For a brief second, those green eyes were unguarded, lazily affectionate. And then it seemed he realized where he was. The thin veil was back in place, although his cheeks were red.

“See? It’s creepy, isn’t it?”

Cas just smiled sweetly at his friend and shook his head.

Dean coughed and launched himself out of the chair. He grabbed a half drunk beer from the desk and blundered his way out the door.

“I’m gonna go start breakfast. Uh—shower’s on the other side of the hall.”

Cas nodded, hiding his smile. He truly didn’t want Dean to feel uncomfortable, but it was sweet how flustered he got when caught caring. It was almost like he was shy, expecting his help to be denied.

It seemed like he knew Cas’ independence was important to him and didn’t want to smother him, but at the same time, he was having a hard time holding back.

Well, he would compromise with Dean. He would allow Dean and his family to help take care of him, but only as long as he was allowed to do the same. He wasn’t able to heal or fly, but he could translate, and as Dean witnessed the day before, and thanks to Daisy and Earl, he knew how to cook and tune up a car.

He could be useful. There could be a place for him here. He would just have to make himself indispensable, if not as angel or a hunter, perhaps a specialist. They would need some help solving the angel problem, whatever it actually was. He’d hidden himself so well he had no idea what was happening, much to his shame. The news said “freak global meteor shower.”

He had no Grace to be tracked by, no trace of his existence left anywhere, no one knew where he was. He hid. It was cowardly, but even he knew it would be suicide to go _looking_ for his fallen brothers and sisters. He didn’t know if expulsion from Heaven automatically meant their Grace was taken, or if they were all at full power, sans the ability to return to Heaven.

Not calling Dean had been one of the hardest decisions he’d made. He figured that Dean would be angry with him for falling for Metatron’s tricks. He’d chosen to believe Naomi—if he hadn’t, Sam might not be alive today. Cas didn’t know who to believe. He _should’ve_ believed in Dean. He should have trusted Dean. Cas hasn’t always been the most trustworthy being in Dean’s world, but Cas _always_ had Dean’s trust, even if it was misplaced.

Dean should be mad. Even now, he should be laying into Cas, showering him with disappointment and ire. Instead of bringing him home, Dean should’ve told every angel in existence that he was alive and just left him to his own devices.

That’s what he deserved. But according to the Dean in his dreams, according to the Dean who drove the better part of a day away coming to get him and bring him home. The motel had been a kind of home and it was lovely, but the Winchesters weren’t there. Dean wasn’t there. His brothers, his best friends, Sam and Dean were his home.

Wherever they were, that’s where Cas belonged too.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast time in the bunker.

“Oh, hey, Cas. Welcome back.”

Cas was startled when he met the young prophet on the way to the shower room. He lifted a hand in greeting and started to somehow explain he wasn't able to speak, but Kevin waved him off.

“Dean told us about your, uh, problem. We've been looking into a few things. Hopefully we can at least find something to help you get your voice back.”

Cas nodded, surprised at the warm welcome. The last time they'd been in the same room, Cas had roughed up the young man. And before that, he'd been a little crazy when he'd met the newly minted prophet.

Kevin must have seen it on his face. “Don't worry about it, man. There was a lot going on.” 

Cas nodded, watching the young man pass him and head down the hall. It seemed the prophet's forgiveness came easily. Cas didn't know how. He couldn't even forgive himself. He was the one who--

He stopped his train of thought. It was easier to forget when he was away, when he was hiding from the world. He couldn't fall into a pit of recriminations, or else he'd never be able to crawl out and fix things. If he even could.

After quickly showering and dressing, keeping his mind off his problems, he maneuvered his way down to the kitchen, where Dean was standing over the stove, his back to the door, with a petite redhead at his side.

 _The infamous Charlie_ , he decided. When he made his presence known, Charlie was the first to acknowledge him. “I'm Charlie. You _must_ be Castiel. Dean's told me, well, not as much I know from the Carver Edlund books—“

“Do _not_ talk to him about those books, Charlie,” Dean warned, brandishing a spatula. He turned the other way to send a glare Cas' way. “And _you_ , stay away from those books.”

Castiel's cheeks heated. Maggie actually had nearly the entire set. They'd belonged to her brother. It was just another thing she'd gifted to him. It kept him entertained and from missing the real Sam and Dean so much.

Dean must have seen the look on his face. “Really? You too, Cas? Just don't tell me anything about them. I lived them.”

_The books didn't tell me anything I didn't already know, Dean._

He'd signed it, so the confused look on Dean's face was expected.

Charlie's reaction was not. 

“Oh! I got, like, five of those words. ' _The books...I know, Dean.''_ ”

“Very helpful, your Highness,” Dean replied dryly. 

Cas smiled at his tone.

“So I'm a little 'rusty.' I only took one semester in high school, and only because the hottest girl in my grade took it. But that's why I downloaded a couple of programs to teach us how to communicate with one another while we're trying to figure out what we can do to get your voice back. And until we can break the language barrier, use this, Cas. You don't mind if I call you Cas, do you?” 

He took the flat computer and shook his head.

“Good. Now you can either type what you want to say—the keyboard is on the screen—or you can use this stylus to write it out, if you prefer.”

He picked up the stylus and quickly wrote “Thank You.”

Charlie smiled warmly and patted him on the shoulder. “You're welcome.” Seeing that Dean was concentrating on the eggs he was cooking, Charlie quickly leaned forward. “Maybe sometime we can get together and talk about The Winchester Gospels behind his back.”

Cas grinned and nodded. She was a strange girl, but he understood why Dean cared so much for Charlie. She was good for him. “She doesn't let me get away with shit,” Dean had chuckled more than once. 

Dean walked over to the doorway and pushed a button. “Kevin! Breakfast!”

At his look, Charlie explained. “This place is too huge to keep going back and forth when we're in different parts of this joint. Digital intercom. It's the wave of the future.”

He smiled, not getting the joke. 

“Coffee, Cas?” Dean spoke over his shoulder as he started plating eggs.

Cas moved forward for a mug, and flashed the screen of the tablet that still read “Thank You” at Dean.

“I see Charlie got you a new toy,” Dean commented. “She does that.” Dean's smile when he spoke of Charlie was one of adoration. It was nice to see Dean so happy, surrounded by more family than he's known in a while. “Have a seat, Cas. Hey, has anyone seen the Redwood known as Sam?”

“He's out running,” Kevin announced, entering the kitchen. 

“Actually, he's back,” Sam announced, entering behind Kevin, fresh from exercise. “Hey, Cas. Welcome back.”

Castiel smiled at Sam and quickly writes on the tablet. _Hello, Sam_.

“I just wanted to say 'hey' before I jumped in the shower. Glad you're back, man.”

Cas nodded. _Glad to be back_. _You're looking very well. How are you feeling?_

Sam leaned over to read. “Thanks, man. Yeah, I'm feeling good. Better and better every day. “

Cas' hand hesitates over the tablet. _How?_

Sam's eyebrows raise. “How? Like, how did I get better?”

Cas nodded.

“Dean, didn't you tell him?”-

Dean looked up in confusion as he placed two plates of eggs on the table. “Tell him wh— _Oh._ You know what? I completely forgot about that.”

_What?_

“Oh, you know, that we've got the King of Hell locked in the dungeon.”

Cas' blood grew cold. He jabbed a finger at the screen. _What?_

Sam pressed his lips together and backed out of the room. “I'm going for a shower. Dean, I'll let you take this one.”

“Thanks, Sam,” Dean replied sarcastically, sitting down at the table with his own plate.

He had zero power, no defense against Crowley, what were they thinking? 

He put the tablet on the table and let his fingers fly, speaking in the only way he could.

_Dean, what are you thinking? Do you realize I can't protect you from him if something happens?_

“Whoa, Cas. Whoa. I don't understand—”

“'Dean, what are you thinking? Do you know I can't protect you if something happens?'”

Everyone turned to look at Kevin. 

“Were you translating that?” Charlie asked Kevin before swinging her gaze to Cas. “Is that what you said?” 

Cas nodded, still staring at Kevin, who shrugged. “Just something else my mom thought would look good on my college applications.”

“Good job, prophet boy,” Charlie praised him. “That's an excellent skill to have under your belt. Now we'll be able to tell what Castiel is _really_ saying.”

“For Pete's sake, Charlie,” Dean groaned. “You're going to scare him. Pull back a little.”

Castiel wasn't sure why Dean was being blasé about Crowley being locked up in the bunker.

“Dean, you'd better tell him why you've got Crowley in the basement. I'm not sure I'll be able to translate if his head explodes,” Kevin warned, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

 

 

Dean looked up from his own breakfast to see Cas staring at him, waiting for an answer. It looked like that whole angel-of-the-Lord I'm-going-to-smite-you-for-your-own-stupidity thing didn't abandon Cas along with his Grace. 

“Don't worry about it, Cas. It's under control. He's been here ever since...You know.”

Cas bent over the tablet. _Since_ then _and he hasn't tried anything?_

Dean snorted. “Other than try to pirate cable so he can get HBO, no.”

At Cas' confused look, he explained.

“Cas, as a result of the Demon trials being canceled before the big finale, Crowley's part human. Crowley's the one who healed Sam.”

Cas turned to Kevin, who sat up and paid attention before signing something. He really needed to figure out how to communicate with the guy. 

“' _Was it a deal? What does he expect in return?'”_

“No deal,” Dean denied. “Not this time. The human part of Crowley has a soft spot for Sammy.”

“ _'Do you trust him now?'_ ” 

Dean snorted again. _Yeah, right._ “I wasn't born yesterday. No, Cas. No matter how human he is, he's still an evil dick.”

“He still refuses to give me a clear answer on whether or not my mother is dead,” Kevin complained bitterly. 

Dean sighed internally. Kevin still looked tired, but definitely not as strung out as when he'd been translating the demon tablet. He looked weary and resigned. Having Charlie in the bunker had definitely helped the kid's disposition, but Dean understood that it just wasn't the same as the force of nature that was Linda Tran.

“Look, if you're worried, we can go down after breakfast and have a tea party and you two can catch up and you can ask him what it was he did for Sammy.”

Dean crunched down on a particularly crispy piece of bacon. _Yeah, that won't be awkward at all._


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After breakfast, the prophet, the former angel, and the Queen of Moons adjourn to the library "to check out software to learn sign language," but actually end up talking about the Supernatural books and Dean heads down to the dungeon for a visit with Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to any and all who've been reading this story, this series. Thanks for the reads, the kudos, etc.

Cas decides not to alert Crowley to his presence just yet. Besides the fact that Kevin would have to go down there to act as interpreter, which Castiel would rather not put him through, he wasn't ready to talk to him, half human or not.

So instead of visiting with Crowley, everyone decided to split up. Sam was sent to resupply the kitchen and check in with some contacts while Dean went downstairs to deal with Crowley, and Charlie and Kevin adjourned to the library to find and download the best software for learning sign language.

Cas was content just to wander the bunker and look around, but Charlie invited him to sit in on their brainstorming session. They quickly found the appropriate software. "It's so easy even Dean can learn." Charlie explained.

Cas frowned at that. _Don't underestimate him. Dean is an intelligent man._

"Oh, I know," Charlie hastened to assure him, "Dean Winchester is _brilliant._ And even if I'd never met him, I'd know because of the _Supernatural_ books. Trust me, Cas, I'm well aware of how smart he is, even if _he_ isn't."

Their eyes met, both familiar with the struggle that is Dean Winchester's self esteem.

"Ok, do I need to be reading these books? It feels like I should?" Kevin piped up from across the table.

Charlie and Cas shared another look. "Well," she began slowly, "Dean would say definitely not, but since you are the current prophet and all, it might be a good thing if you saw what the prior prophet was working on before he...I dunno, vaporized or whatever."

Cas shrugged when Charlie looked to him for permission. Apparently that was all she needed. She pulled her laptop close and took a flash drive from her pocket which she inserted into the computer.

When she opened the correct file for the books, Cas leaned over her shoulder and frowned. _What are the rest of the files? There weren't that many when I started reading them._

Her brow furrowed as she read Cas' tablet. "Well, the official series ended when Dean went to Hell, and Chuck was going to start publishing again with the story of Dean getting out of Hell--thanks for that, by the way--but the guy apparently threatened him with bodily harm if he went through with it."

_So how do you have all the rest?_

"Sam's super fan stalker, Becky, uploaded the unpublished ones. At first I thought it was her work, but then I remembered when I'd read about her and what Sam and Dean told me and figured she was probably just tenacious enough to find and upload what Chuck left behind."

She chattered as the flash drive filled up. "The fans are still out there and they _love_ the angel storyline and as a matter of fact--" She stopped herself and swiveled around to look at Cas. "You haven't read past 'No Rest for the Wicked.'"

It wasn't a question, but he still answered by shaking his head.

Charlie bit her lip and blinked rapidly. "Um..."

"What? What comes after 'No Rest for the Wicked?’” Kevin prompted.

Cas was starting to feel a little uncomfortable under her gaze.

"The introduction of our friend Castiel, here," she responded, not looking away from him.

He didn’t understand what she was trying to say without saying anything, so he just stared right back.

It was quiet for a few moments, until they heard Dean blustering through the bunker.

“Um, anyway, if you want to read what comes after, just let me know and I’ll set you up.”

He knew what came after, had lived it, but there seemed to be something in the books that Charlie wasn’t telling him. At least, that’s what he read in her weighted gaze. He nodded, his gaze breaking away when Dean made an appearance.

“Hey, Cas. I feel like shooting things. Wanna come down to the range?”

Cas glanced at Charlie curiously. “Go ahead. Go be manly men and shoot all the things. We’ll be here. Learning things.”

If he read the look between Charlie and Kevin correctly, it wasn’t going to be sign language they would be learning.

 

Checking on Crowley definitely didn’t improve Dean’s disposition.

He went down with the express purpose of asking about another cure, one for Cas this time. He didn’t mention the angel by time. Cas was right. Crowley didn’t need to know he was in the bunker, not just yet.

But he needed answers, _some_ way to help his friend. He should have known Crowley wasn’t going to make it easy.

“Well, hello there, Squirrel. How was your trip?” Trapped in special devil’s trap irons in a dark dungeon all alone, Crowley still managed to sound cheerful and relaxed, like he was merely on vacation.

Dean ignored his question. “I need a spell that will locate an angel’s…an angel by their Grace.”

Crowley grinned salaciously. “I can’t believe it took you this long to ask me.”

“What?”

His smirk grew. “Missing your boyfriend, are you?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “The spell, Crowley.”

You could have heard a pin drop in the dungeon it was so silent. The staring contest between the hunter and half-demon was intense. Dean was about to come out swinging when Crowley broke contact first with a sigh.

“What would make you think that I would know a spell like that? And if I did, don’t you think I would have used it before?”

Dean’s jaw clenched, his fist aching to connect with Crowley’s face.

The demon chuckled. “I do so enjoy our talks, Dean. They’re very illuminating.”

“You don’t know anything.”

Crowley chuckled again. “I know more than you let on. But perhaps if I knew the whole story…”

Dean crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe if we knew the whole story about Linda Tran we might be more inclined to release more details.”

That smirk was back. Dean itched to smack it right off his face, but he couldn’t afford to piss Crowley off any more than they already had.

“Well?”

Crowley only shrugged, his eyes alight with amusement.

_Evil bastard is evil_.

It had been less than ten minutes, but Dean’d had enough. If he spent any more time in the dungeon, he would be tempted to attempt an exorcism. And none of them could afford to let Crowley go.

He glared at the usurped King of Hell before turning on his heel and leaving the demon alone in the dark.

As he climbed the stairs to the main floor, his irritation grew. He felt like a failure. He couldn’t figure out a way to help Cas, couldn’t get Crowley to spill what he knew; there was nothing he could do.

He felt beyond impotent. And that was _not_ a word Dean Winchester liked to use to describe himself.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean's meeting with Crowley makes him cranky and want to shoot things, so he invites Cas down for a lesson in handguns. 
> 
> Later on, the brothers Winchester take a drive to figure some things out.

"All right, Cas. I know you've already got the hand-to-hand with blades down. Multiple kinds of blades, as evidenced by the collection I saw in your room in Wyoming."

Cas nodded, leaning against the counter, watching Dean lay out his different firearms, from small to large.

"I know you've never been a fan of guns, weren't sure what to do with them, but that was then. This is...well, it is what it is, and you're gonna need to know this stuff. I'll teach you whatever I can." He shrugged, making sure the line of guns were loaded. 

Cas snorted, a mix of exasperation and fondness on his face.  _I'll teach you whatever I can._  He said that as if he had so little knowledge to impart, but Cas knew Dean could take apart and put together each gun in his arsenal and was brilliant enough to design and build his own.

_You never give yourself enough credit. I wish you could see how I see you, Dean Winchester. Maybe then you'd believe._

_  
_Dean picked up a small handgun and aimed it at the target down the lane. He fired off three quick shots, pleased when they hit their marks: all headshots.

He put the gun down and stepped out of the way. "Ok, now you. Pick your poison and we'll go from there."

Cas put his tablet down on the table behind him and picked up the shotgun, which he cocked, aimed, and fired expertly. He smiled and turned a proud look over his shoulder that dissolved when he saw the crestfallen look on Dean's face. _  
_

Cas turned and cocked his head, puzzled at the look of disappointment on his friend's face. He thought Dean would be pleased that he'd learned a little in his short time on Earth as a human.

_What's wrong?_ he signed slowly, making sure Dean's eyes were on his hands.

"Nothing," he replied shortly, his attention on the guns. "I just..."

_What?_

Dean sighed and tried to move away, but Cas was too fast. He reached out a hand and grabbed his friend's shoulder to stop him. He waited until Dean looked up to ask him again.  _What?_

He didn't like seeing this man unhappy and discouraged. He was far too familiar with this look and hated being the cause of it.

"You don't need me, Cas." Dean exhaled through his nose in a rush, his cheeks coloring slightly. "You've got the human thing down. You don't need me for that, don't need me for weapons training. You don't need me for anything."

Cas couldn't breathe. He'd forgotten the moment in the car before Dean had driven them back to the bunker. A wave of guilt passed over him for neglecting to remember something so important. He wasn't the best at reading between the lines, but he could read Dean like a book. He knew the subtext, the weighted meaning behind the word " _need_."He remembered Dean in Purgatory, refusing to leave him behind, and then again in the crypt, bloodied and broken.

" _I need you._ " 

Cas held up a hand, telling Dean to wait a moment. He picked up his tablet and used the stylus to quickly write instead of typing on the keyboard.

_Of course I need you, Dean. There is still so much I can learn at your hands. Don't_ ever  _think that I don't need you, because I do. You're my best friend, and I need you more than ever."_

_  
_He didn't want to make Dean uncomfortable, but the words he'd scribbled were the truth. He handed the tablet over to Dean to read, looking him in the eye pointedly when he was through.

He took the tablet back.  _Do you get me?_

_  
_Dean smiled a small, crooked smile. Cas."

Satisfied with the answer, he quickly scribbled again. _The only reason I know how to shoot that gun is because I asked my boss to take me hunting so that I could learn about guns. He only took me once because I kept "missing" the targets._

_  
_Dean grinned, the sparkle back in his eyes. "What, you mean you don't have it in you to kill some poor, innocent animal in cold blood?"

Cas shook his head emphatically, a look of mild disgust on his face.  _I didn't see the point in killing a creature whose only crime was to be living in a place where there are a good many guns at the ready._

_  
_Dean laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Never change, Cas. Never change."

Whatever it was that bothered Dean enough to send him to the range disapated within the hour they spent familiarizing Cas with the different styles of guns.

In exchange for the lesson on guns, Cas offered a lesson of his own with his collection of knives, which turned into a sparring match in the bunker's gym that left both men stripped to the waist, sweaty, tired, and aching. It left them both smiling and feeling a bit lighter.

 

 

It was another few days before Dean mustered up the energy to even think about asking for Crowley's help with Cas--or anything else, for that matter. 

Things had been going well. Dean was being selfish and enjoying just having his friend there, and safe. Sam and Charlie were still trying to research ways to at least fix Cas' voice, and Kevin was still working on that damn angel tablet. He was teaching Cas about pop culture. That had to count for something, right?

As for Crowley, well, threats and imposing body language obviously weren't working, and frankly, Dean didn't know _what_ to do, so he cornered his brother and asked him to take a drive with him.

Sam looked surprised. "Why do we need to leave the bunker, Dean? It affords us way more privacy than we're used to."

"Yeah, but there are STILL MORE EARS than we're used to," Dean stated loudly, knowing that Charlie was lurking around the corner, probably listening for a "broment."

Sure enough, they heard a thump, a groan, and a mumbled "Fudge."  
  


"Fair enough," Sam allowed.

Once they were ensconced in the Impala, headed into town for supplies, Dean asked his brother if he had any ideas on how to get Crowley to cooperate. 

"I don't know, Dean. You know Crowley. You can't get something for nothing from him, partially human or not. He's still an evil dick."

"No argument there." Dean glanced at his brother in the passenger seat. "But what you're saying is, I need to make a deal with him?"

"Well, no. Not a normal deal, anyway. Find something he wants and offer it."

"I'm not freeing that dick. I'm not letting him out of our sight, useful or not. I'd rather waste him than turn him loose."

"No, I get it," Sam agreed, pushing a lock of hair behind his ear. "Just...find out what he wants and maybe...I don't know? Exploit it? Maybe let him think he's got some power?"

The only sound was the humming of the engine while Dean considered his brother's words.

"Yeah, but what could he want besides the one thing we don't want to give him?"

Sam quietly pondered that question for a couple of miles.

"I guess that's what we've got to figure out."

"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know fuck all about guns and hunting. I'm sure it shows. If I had more time and better wifi, I would do a little more research, but I'm keeping my fingers crossed that I can even get this chapter published.
> 
> Thanks for the reading and the kudos!


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas finds out how delicate humans actually are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many apologies for those waiting on this to be updated.  
> Working retail during the holidays doesn't leave much time to do things I think are really important. Like writing.  
> Thanks for the reading and the kudos.

Weeks go by and still no one mentions taking Cas down to visit Crowley to see if he has any answers on how to get Cas his voice back, if not his Grace.

Which is basically fine with him. Except that Charlie makes him watch _The Little Mermaid,_ which was fine, except she had called it “research.” When Dean came into the room and saw what they were watching, he scolded Charlie. “Come on, man. The sea witch didn't take his voice. This is a totally different situation.”

To which Charlie replied, “And you would know this, how?” She was very interested in the answer. She was draped over the back of the couch in the den area of the bunker, her attention on Dean, a faux innocent look in her eyes.

Castiel knew that Dean had watched the movie with his little brother on a tape in Bobby's house when they were very young, and that he liked it but pretended not to. Castiel didn't supply that answer. In fact, Dean didn't know he even knew that tidbit of information about him and would likely be embarrassed and uncomfortable if he knew. There were a good many things Castiel knew about Dean that Dean didn't know he knew, but it was all easy for Cas to keep secret.

Dean had blushed and replied with a “Shut up” that didn't have much heat behind it. His embarrassed gaze met Castiel's before Dean walked out of the room to leave them to finish.

Maybe there were still some secrets Dean Winchester kept to himself.

There were some secrets he shared with only his brother. More than once Cas walked in on the two speaking in hushed tones, which immediately stopped as soon as they saw him. He was suspicious, but he never asked what they were talking about. He just put his dish in the sink or grabbed the book he needed and calmly left them to whatever they had been whispering about.

It was about him, he was sure. In some way it was about him. He wasn't sure if it was because of the angels or his lack of Grace and how useless he was to them in fighting demons and everything else. He really hoped they weren't going to turn him out of the bunker. He had nowhere else to go.

He _could_ go back to Wyoming. His cafe family didn't know his background, only what he'd told them through Jenny. They would welcome him back.

Cas missed his cafe family, missed his part in the running of the businesses. He had always been busy. If he wasn't cooking or baking at the cafe, he was working on “his” car or one of the rooms of the motel. There wasn't a lot of free time on his hands. When he actually took some time off from both jobs he spent time with Jenny, learning how to use her camera, learning how to sign, or alone in his room, watching tv or listening to music that made him miss his other family. Made him miss Dean.

He was barely allowed in the bunker's kitchen to prepare meals. According to Sam, Dean was a controlling neat freak about the kitchen. Drove him nuts when something was out of place. To Cas, it didn't seem right that Dean cooked all of the “family meals” that weren't takeout, but it did seem like Dean enjoyed doing it, and he wasn't about to take that enjoyment away from him.

But Castiel needed to not feel useless. Everyone else in the bunker had a job, a purpose. He needed to find his niche, his specialty.

He decides to help Charlie, who has been slowly and systematically cataloging the artifacts and information contained in the bunker, making everything digital and “hella easier to find when the supernatural is crawling up your ass.”

Sam thought it was entirely possible that there were answers to any number of questions currently posed that they would perhaps stumble upon during this slow and tedious exercise.

It was during this exercise that Cas' delicate humanity and loss of Grace asserts itself and shows to be a great detriment. At least to him.

He's down in one of the sub-basements—not the one where Crowley is being held, but as far away from the dungeon he could get without actually being outside—when it happens.

Charlie sent him downstairs for another load of artifacts. They'd been researching and labeling all day. Sam and Dean were off on a hunt—“Just an old school salt and burn, Cas. Nothing to worry about” and Kevin was taking a break from the tablet to help Charlie tweak the program she'd come up with especially for cataloging each and every item in the bunker.

He was carrying a heavy cardboard box containing weapons, photos, and artifacts up the stairs when the bottom started to fall out. Luckily, Cas was able to shift his grip so that the objects in the box didn't fall at his feet. Pleased that he saved these unknown, and possibly historic items from certain smashing, he sighed and took a step forward.

Unfortunately he hadn't realized one of his shoes was untied and that he'd stepped on the lace until he tried to step up and ended tripping himself. The box flew out of his arms, the items flying behind him, landing on the cement floor while he fell backwards down the stairs, everything going black when he hit his head on the way down.

The next thing he knew he was being jostled awake by Charlie. 

“Cas? Castiel, can you hear me? Cas? Oh my God, Dean's going to kill me if his angel dies on my watch.”

He blinked against the light, silently groaning at the pain in his head.

“Oh, good.” Charlie breathed a relieved sigh. “You're awake. Are you ok? Well, obviously not, you fell down the stairs and were knocked unconscious. But, are you seeing double? Can you move?”

He shakily signed that his eyes were fine, but that his head hurt. When he tried to stand with Charlie's assistance, he grimaced and fell back to the floor, shaking his aching head rapidly.

“What? What's wrong?” 

_My ankle. I think it's broken._

“Oh, dude,” Charlie breathed, panicked. “This is so bad. You need to go to the hospital. I'm going to run and get Kevin to help get you up the stairs and then I'm going to find directions to the nearest hospital. Ok?” She looked at him and waited for his response before flying up the stairs. “Of all the times for the Ginormo Twins to be away from home...” 

Cas closed his eyes and rested his throbbing head on his upraised knee, really missing his Grace right then. 


	6. SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of Cas' accident from Kevin and Charlie's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay!
> 
> Now that the holidays are over I should be able to focus a little more energy on all the things I've been neglecting since Thanksgiving.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

Sam and Dean's cells are both off when Charlie tries calling  before she and  Cas  head off to the emergency room. She thought nothing of it; they were probably in the middle of their hunt, so she left a brusque message telling each of them to call her before telling Kevin to text them the coordinates of the hospital.  And to “Get there, bitches,” so the boys know they aren't being led into a trap.

Kevin had the fleeting thought about reading those books so that maybe he could know what she knew that gave her such confidence in the Winchesters. That thought disappeared  a moment later. Charlie could have that knowledge to herself. As a legit Prophet of the Lord, Kevin Tran had enough to worry about.

He went back inside to send the text and wait. Thinking he might take a break from the tablets just for the moment while an other crisis took precedence, he headed to the kitchen for a sandwich, which he brought back to the library with a bottle of water.

Keeping his food far,  far  away from Charlie's precious magical laptop, he wiped his hands on his jeans and woke her compute r  up. “I  need you on standby. You may need to get in and change some information somewhere,” she'd yelled out the open car window as she backed up out of the driveway.

Once he realizes he's all alone in the bunker with Crowley in the dark recesses of the b uilding, he loses his appetite and shoves the sandwich away. He doesn't think about going down to visit Crowley to interrogate him about his mother. She was either dead or she was safe. He had a fifty-fifty chance that she was alive, and there was a one hu ndred percent chance that Crowley knew where she was either way. He just had to be patient. In the meantime, he would work on his translations.

He lay out the three tablets on the table in front of him, Demon-Angel-Leviathan before pulling his notebook c loser. When he looked back up at the tablets, he switched them around so that they lie Leviathan-Demon-Angel. Satisfied, he picked up his pen and let it hover over the notebook.

As Kevin bent over the book, he saw a weird glow out of the corner of his eye . He blinked and looked closely at the tablets. What he saw made his jaw drop. The three tablets had become one. There was new writing covering the tablet. “Oh fuck, are you kidding me right now?” he shrieked in despair. “Come on, man!”

He quickly types o ut a text to Charlie.

_ Hey, if you hear from Sam and Dean before I do, tell one of them to call home ASAP, ok? _

The answer was almost immediate.

**_ Is it a KOH related emergency? _ **

He snorts.

_ No. No problems there. Just tell them to call, please. _

_** Will do. ** _

_ How's everything on your end? _

_** Just finished filling out  Cas ' paperwork. Now we're just waiting for to get called to triage. The  er  is fairly clear ATM. ** _

_ How's he feeling? _

**_ Woozy. The poor angel has a concussion. And I'm his only translator, so that's  going fabulously already. _ **

_ Keep me posted. _

_** *sends thumbs up emoticon* ** _

Kevin quickly texted Sam and Dean one more time before setting his phone down and getting to work on the new version of the tablet, more energized than he'd been in a while.

Charl ie rushes poor  Cas  to the nearest hospital, her messenger bag full of the information for the identity she'd given him. He was  Cas  Novak, a very distant cousin of Jimmy Novak on his dad's side. She went _in depth_   for this project, weaving  Castiel  into the f abric of Life, from beginning to now. It was almost like writing Supernatural fan fiction, after a fashion. She was inserting herself into the history of the Winchesters, hoping that if the books ever somehow continued, she would be remembered fondly and a s the badass that she is.

Anyway,  Cas  Novak had health insurance, and a health history. He had everything. He even had an official birthdate (September 18, 1977). Luckily she'd had enough time to take care of every little detail. Dean asked her if she wou ld create  Cas  an identity her first night in the bunker. That one request answered every question she had about Dean Winchester. And it made her love him even more. She worked extra hard filling in the blanks because she knew that if Dean asked, it was imp ortant.

This was the first time they'd really be road testing the new identity, so she was a little nervous. The fact that  Cas  was mute and that she had to carry the conversation actually made her a little less nervous, though. She just told him to go al ong with whatever she said.

She'd pulled into the ambulance dock and ran for a wheelchair, which she quickly deposited  Cas  into before wheeling him through the automatic door to the registration desk.

“Hi, excuse me. My friend was helping me clean out m y attic. He fell down some stairs and hit his head. I think he also broke his ankle. You with me,  Cas ?”

The man nodded blearily when he heard his name.

“He's mute, but he can hear, and he signs,” she informed the lady at the desk. “Can I leave him here  while I go park my car?” When she got an affirmative, she squeezed  Cas ' shoulder and took off at a jog.

When she came back,  Cas  had been wheeled over to a table and chairs with a stack of paperwork. She pulled a pen out of her bag and got to work filling i n the papers for him. She knew him better than he did. Well, she should, she basically created him.

When  Cas ' name was called, Charlie didn't hesitate to jump up and wheel her friend beyond the big, scary double doors. They were set up in a room and she  was told to help him into the gown, that he would be sent down to x-ray immediately, even before he saw the doctor.  

While he's gone to radiology her phone rings. It's Dean. “Finally,” she huffs, pressing “Answer.” “Hang on for a sec, Dean.” Hurrying ove r to the nurse's station, she asks  Cas ' nurse to let him know that she's going out front to take a call.

“It's about time, Winchester,” she hissed, ducking out the front door. “And before you freak out, it's not serious...”

She shouldn't have wasted he r breath on that warning. One of the many things Dean Winchester was good at was freaking out about his family. This time was no different.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean rushes to the ER to meet Charlie and Cas.

“Uh, Dean. You might want to check your phone.”

“I feel gross,” Dean growled, clomping towards the motel angrily, ectoplasm dripping from his clothes. “Why do the freakin' spectres always have to attack _me_? Why do they always skip you?”

What was supposed to be a simple salt and burn turned into a faux ghoul hunt, which turned into spectre situation. It was supposed to be easy, an “in-and-out kind of hunt, and home by dinner” (Yeah, thanks, Garth.), but it was anything but. That sucker was wily.

“Dean, if you'll remember, that last spectre tried to kill me,” Sam tried to point out, but his brother wasn't listening, he was still grumping.

“I'm gonna strangle Garth the next time I see him.” Dean flung the door open and gingerly made his way to the bathroom, tossing his bag on the bed on the way.

“Dean, I really think you should check your phone. I have a bunch of mixed texts and calls from Kevin.”

Dean stood on one foot as he struggled to get out of his boots. “Yeah, well, he's probably out of burritos or something.” He wiped his hands on his jeans and reached into his pocket for his phone. “Son of a bitch.”

“He call you, too?” Sam asked, dialing Kevin's number.

“No,” Dean replied, quickly scrolling through his texts. “Charlie. Damn it. Cas got into an accident.” He stopped scrolling and hit the Call button. “Damn it, I knew we should have stayed close to home. I'm gonna murder Garth. Charlie!” he barked into the phone. “What's going on?”

On the other side of the room, Sam was having problems understanding what Kevin was saying. “Wait. No, wait. Kevin, I can't under—Kevin, calm down. What? The tablets did _what_?”

“We'll be there as soon as we can. Yeah, we're heading back now. Yeah, ok. Thanks, Charlie.” Dean hung up, grabbed his boots, his bag, and headed for the door.

“Dean, what happened? Is Cas ok? Wait, where are you going?”

Dean turned around impatiently. “Come on, Sammy, we gotta go.”

“Dean, you're covered in goo. Go take a shower, then we can go. Apparently we've got a lot to talk about,” Sam sighed, rubbing his forehead.

Couldn't they ever catch a break?

 

 

 

Clean and pissy, Dean tromped in through the entrance to the emergency room, heading straight for the check-in. He was so focused he didn't notice the redhead sitting just inside the door.

“Yo, Winchester! Hit the brakes!”

Hearing his name, Dean whirled around to see Charlie hurrying towards him.

“Wow. That was fast,” she commented, flashing him a quick smile. "You must have broken  _all_ the laws to get here that quick."

“How is he?” The words were urgent, worried, so Charlie left her inner shipper in the trunk and chose not to tease him.

“As I told you on the phone,” she stressed patiently, “he's _fine_. Possible concussion, possible broken ankle. They took him down to get scans a while ago. He's not back yet.”

“ _Possible_ concussion and broken ankle? Dammit, Charlie, what was doing? Why weren't you watching him?” He was starting to get loud, so she steered him to the far corner of the waiting area to sit.

“Calm down. You freaking out isn't going help him. And I _told_ you, we were cataloging artifacts. Cas was bringing up a box and I guess he tripped and fell down a few steps. He was unconscious when I found him—“

“ _What?_ ” Dean roared. “How long was he unconscious?”

“ _Stop it_ ,” she warned him, with a subtle glance towards the security guard that was looking at them suspiciously. “I'm not sure how long, but he didn't seem confused when he woke up. Just woozy and in pain.

Dean nodded absently, his eyes taking on a faraway look.

“Dean.” Charlie leaned forward and gently placed her hand on top of his, noting that he was shaking. “Dean, look at me.” She waited until he did as she requested. “He's fine. He's going to be fine. Cas is human now. He's not unbreakable, but he is resilient. Stuff like this is to be expected.”

He swallowed hard. “I know.” He squeezed her hand lightly. “Thank you for being there for him. I really appreciate it.”

“It's no problem. He's my friend, too,” she shrugged with a half smile. Charlie debated whether or not to say anything else, but didn't have a chance.

“Novak! Who's here with Novak?”

“Oh! That's us!” Charlie stood up and headed for the voice, Dean following suit. “Cas Novak? Is he back from radiology?”

“The doctor is in with him right now; he can fill you in,” the nurse replied, boredom evident in her tone.

“Can we see him?”

“Only one at a time,” she said, eyeing Dean up and down distrustfully like he was about to rob her.

“You go, dude. I'll wait here.” Charlie patted him on the shoulder and went to take a seat. “Dude's got it bad,” she mumbled, smiling to herself.

Dean followed the nurse quietly. He was on edge. This shouldn't have happened. He should have been there. Maybe Cas wouldn't have gotten hurt. Or maybe he still would have. It's that whole Winchester brand of luck at play again; all bad luck.

When he lay eyes on his friend, his stomach flipped. Cas was lying on the small bed with his eyes closed, an IV attached to his arm. Seeing him like this scared Dean. Showed him just how mortal the former angel was.

“Mr. Novak, I need you to stay awake. And your friend is here,” the nurse stated loudly, moving forward to check his vitals.

Castiel opened his eyes to glare at the woman, but the glare changed to relief when his gaze landed on Dean.

“Hey, buddy, how you doin'?” Dean forced himself to lighten his tone, feeling a little better at seeing his friend mostly safe and sound.

Cas raised his hands and started signing rapidly, forgetting that Dean wasn't as fluent as the rest of their roommates.

“Whoa whoa whoa. Slow down there, pal.” The way he was signing reminded Dean of an angry Latina who had gone off on him about God knows what when he was a teenager. Probably that whole sleeping-with-her-sister thing, but he'd never know, since he refused to pay attention in Spanish class.

Cas took a deep breath to calm himself and started over again, his hands moving much slower this time.

“Ok, I pretty much just got 'home' out of all of that.”

Blue eyes narrowed and glared at Dean, who chuckled. Cas huffed and mimed writing. Dean looked around but didn't see anything to write with, and the nurse didn't look super helpful, so he didn't bother asking her for a pen. “Hang on.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Cas, who took it gratefully.

Swiping his finger across the screen, Castiel quickly located the notes app on the phone and quickly typed a short message that he showed to Dean.

_I'm fine. Dr says I have a mild concussion and a broken ankle. He wants to keep me overnight for observation, but I want to go home._

After reading, Dean raised his eyes. “Are you sure?”

Cas nodded emphatically, his hair flopping over his forehead. He winced.

“Are you sure _now_?”

Cas crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

“Ok, ok,” Dean laughed. _Sassy Cas is sassy._ He turned to the nurse. “What do we gotta do to get him outta here?”

Thirty-five minutes later, after many promises to keep a close eye on Cas for the next twenty-four hours and bring him to the ER if his condition worsens, Dean, Cas, and Charlie are out the door, armed with instructions to wake up the patient every hour or so to make sure he's doing all right, and a prescription for narcotic painkillers.

The painkillers don't please Dean in the least. This situation is a little too close to something that happened to Human Cas in the crappy future Zachariah showed him, when Human Cas was Junky Cas.

He wasn't about to let the former angel go down that path, but he also wasn't willing to make his friend suffer. There had to be some sort of compromise.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After being injured, Cas is banished to his room, where he becomes bored and restless. Luckily, though, Charlie has provided him with some reading material.

Cas was bored. Cas was bored, and frustrated. Not to mention, he felt bad because he had to be waited on, hand and foot by everyone in the bunker. After his last solo mission to the bathroom, he'd slipped and fallen on the way back to his room. Unable to get up on his own, unable to call out, he'd sat in the hall with his back against the wall, tears of frustration in his eyes, until Dean happened upon him and helped him back to his bed.

From that moment, Dean had Cas banished to his room. “Sam and I can help you upstairs when we're here, otherwise you stay put until you're stable,” he'd said.

Cas had tried to argue, but Dean wouldn't have it. “No, man. I need you to stay in one place until you're healed. Don't make me have to step over your unconscious ass in the hall.”

Cas obeyed, but only because he could read through the lines: Dean was worried. So he did as he was told and stayed in his room. If he needed something from upstairs, he would send a group text or a video call, and whoever was available would respond, so that meant there always had to be someone in the bunker. Well, Kevin wasn't really allowed to leave, either. He was a prize for both demons and angels. It was important to keep him safe, both because of his prophet status, but more importantly, because he was family.

So during the day, he would text Kevin, but mostly Charlie if he needed something. If it was a visit to the bathroom or shower, it would be mostly Sam. Dean was there for him, of course. He would bring him breakfast or help him up to the library to help with research, or just set him up in front of the television in Charlie's room and marathon tv shows with him.

But Castiel was alone for most of the day. He didn't want to be a bother, didn't want to be a burden to anyone, so he kept to himself. Charlie had helped him set up a Skype account, so he was able to communicate with everyone back at the diner. Maggie took down his PO Box address and promised a care package would be in the mail, and passed on a new recipe for coconut cream pie Daisy had perfected.

Being on his own meant he had a lot of time to himself, to think, to reflect, to wonder about everything he'd tried to hide from in Wyoming. To think about his part in the Fall, his part in the death of even more of his brothers and sisters, and what the repercussions might be once he's discovered.

In addition to being banished to his room, he was also banned from most information on the internet in regards to the Fall. “If you've got nothin' but time on your hands you'll dwell and tear yourself up,” Dean had said. And he should know. So he'd had Charlie work her magic on Cas' tablet to block anything to do with the strange meteor shower and related strange events. He was allowed to do research on breaking back into Heaven, but everything else was a no go.

Charlie had smiled sheepishly when she handed him the tablet. “Sorry, bro. But I did download a few things to keep you occupied.” With that, she'd winked and left the room.

It didn't take long to figure out what Charlie was referring to. There was a folder that he knew to be ancient Enochian that read “This is not for Dean's eyes.”

He'd clicked it open, of course, and found another folder labeled Winchester Gospels, four and five. To appease his curiosity, he'd clicked further and found a document entitled _Lazarus Rising_ , and began reading.

It was odd reading about himself. He then knew how Sam and Dean must feel, but minus all the rage. And despite the fact that Chuck really wasn't that great of a writer, Cas became engrossed in the story of how he and Dean first met—aside from the whole “raising from Perdition” thing, and how Chuck had blurred Sam's activities with Ruby...It was very interesting to see himself from an outside point of view, and even chuckled at the Columbo reference that he finally understood.

It also made him miss who he used to be—not the hammer Dean had called him once, but the naive and hopeful angel with doubts who had been led to the path of Free Will by the Righteous Man. He supposed that part of him was still there, but after the Fall, he couldn't help but he a little cynical. Cynicism had helped him survive those past months on his own.

 

 

“Bored yet?”

Cas jumped at the voice, nearly knocking over his now cold cup of coffee. He turned to see Dean at the door, holding a tray of food, a grin on his lips.

A quick time check showed him that it was lunchtime, and that several hours had passed since breakfast. He'd been so immersed in the story of Anna and how she'd gotten her Grace back that he didn't realize he was hungry, and more than a little achy.

_It must be raining_ , he thought wistfully, wishing not for the first time for a window, or a trip outdoors. 

He grimaced as he sat up against the headboard, quickly closing the doc he was reading before Dean could see, and opening the notepad.

_Very. It's too quiet, and there's only so much reading a person can do before his eyes go cross._

Dean chuckled as he read the screen. “True. But it's only been a few days, man. You just gotta be patient.”

Cas sighed in exasperation and glared at his friend.

“Yeah, yeah. I know, but the healing of a human takes a while. A lot longer it would take for you to mojo yourself better. One of the perks of humanity.” Dean sat the tray on the bed next to Cas. There were two huge sandwiches and a bowl of broccoli salad, along with two bottles of water.

Confusion glanced across his face. Dean must have seen it. “What? You think I'm gonna let you have lunch alone? Sammy and Charlie are on a provisions run and Kevin is playing some...I don't know, something, so I've got time.” He grinned as he pulled the desk chair closer to the bed.

Cas' grateful smile turned into another grimace when he tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed.

“Whoa, settle down there, cowboy. You alright?”

Cas nodded unconvincingly, trying to breathe through the pain.

“Uh, try that once more with feeling, maybe I'll believe it. You're in pain, aren't you?”

Cas didn't respond, just looked away. He'd seen how upset Dean was, how closely he watched when he saw Cas taking one of his prescription painkillers. Dean's only response had been “Just be careful with those. You don't want to get hooked.”

Dean sighed and pulled open the nightstand drawer, where he found a mostly full bottle of white pills.

“Cas, if you're in pain, take one. There's no sense in suffering if you don't have to.” He held out the bottle, but still Castiel didn't take it.

_But you don't like it when I take them,_ he signed.

“That was too fast, man,” Dean complained. “Again, slower, please?”

Instead, Cas quickly wrote on the tablet.

Dean sat down on the bed, sure to be careful of his leg. “Cas, don't worry about what I think. No, actually, do. I don't want you to be in pain, I don't want your leg to bother you, so if those pills help your  _leg_ , then take them. For a little while at least. Just...be careful.”

Cas took the bottle and sat it in his lap.  _After I eat_ , he wrote.  _Better on a full stomach._

Satisfied, Dean nodded and took his sandwich from the try. Cas, however, still hesitated.

_Why do the pills bother you?_

Dean read the tablet and held Cas' gaze for a long moment. “That's a story for another day,” he finally responded. “Now, eat. The sooner you do, the sooner you can be out of pain.”

Cas nodded and dug into his BLT.

Turns out, he didn't need Dean to tell him what the problem was. He found out in a book called  _The End._

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Cas, and Kevin take a trip down to the dungeon to talk to Crowley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, unbeta'd, and all mistakes are mine.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here. Angel and the Badman. Long time, no see, Cas. How are things?”

Crowley's greeting was cheerful and polite—for him. But they could still hear the mocking undertones hidden in the honey of his voice.

“Oh, and Kevin, too. My goodness. To what do I owe this pleasure?”

“Can it, Crowley,” Dean growled, stalking further into the room.

Crowley watched in hidden confusion as Castiel wrote a message on the tablet for Dean, who sighed. “Yeah, ok, fine.”

The hunter rubbed his forehead and moved past Kevin, who'd decided to hang back. Dean told Kevin his translating skills weren't needed, as Cas had his tablet, but Kevin had insisted on accompanying them down to the dungeon.

Dean raised his gaze to the demon and spoke plainly. “We need your help.”

That gave the former King of Hell pause. He leaned back in his chair, shackles clanging against the table as he brought his clasped hands to the flat surface.

He could barely contain his glee. It was obvious it pained the Winchester no end to have to say those words. “Oh, do tell.”

  
  


Cas held back, keeping a steady eye on the demon the Winchesters had been stashing for the past few months. He knew Crowley couldn't be trusted. But they needed him, needed him to help him get his voice back, to get his mojo back and to open Heaven back up. Cas figured he would be more useful if he were “angeled up,” as Dean said. He was tired of being broken, being useless.

He thought that they should maybe just skip to getting his Grace back and finding a way back into Heaven, but Sam reasoned that they needed to make sure they could trust Crowley, so Castiel was going to be their guinea pig. If it was going to go “kablooie” then it needed to be him to keep everyone else safe. Cas knew that it was only a token argument Dean put up. None of them really liked the idea, but If there were going to be casualties, well, better him than anyone else. 

  
  


Dean didn't like this. But they didn't have a choice. There was nowhere to turn. They'd looked at everything they could find in the Men of Letters' library. What they couldn't read themselves, Charlie and Kevin were translating via computer technology, so yes, there very well could be something to help Cas, but they hadn't been able to find it amongst their vast, yet limited, resources.

Sam had reasoned that they needed to explore other avenues. Unfortunately for them, Crowley was one of those other avenues.

It would all be worth it in the end, whatever _quid pro quo_ Crowley asked for, if Cas got his life back.

Dean _could_ just skate right on by finding a solution to the Graceless Cas issue, but even he couldn't be that selfish. Even if that meant things got back to normal. Even if that meant he didn't have Cas by his side.

  
  
  


 

“So you want me to play ‘Ursula’ to Cas’ ‘Ariel,’ is that right?”

“No, we don’t want you to take away his voice and give him legs, or vice versa,” Dean bit out and immediately blushed. Behind him, Kevin snickered, while Castiel looked confused.

Crowley’s arched his brow smugly.

Dean just blew right past that. “Are you gonna help us or not?”

The demon narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips. Let me see if I have this right. You want me to help your boyfriend get his voice back as an audition for finding a door to Heaven that will eventually lead to getting his angel mojo back?” He pretended not to notice Dean’s clenched jaw at the boyfriend reference and instead turned his attention to Castiel. “And you’re just fine with playing the lab rat?”

Crowley didn’t need to be a mind reader to sense Cas’ hesitation even as he nodded. _There’s a story there. And a delicious one, I’ll bet._

He turned his attention back to the hunter. “And I’ll get whatever I want--within reason--even if it’s my freedom?”

“Yes,” was the clipped response.

He considered the silent, tense trio for a moment. “I’m going to need some paper and something to write with. You’ll need a list. And directions.”

Castiel slid the tablet in front of him and handed him the stylus.

Ten minutes later, the three were ready to leave, full list and directions in hand.

“Oh, and don’t forget to check #207 when you get there,” he called after them. “There’s something in there I think Kevin will find rather interesting.”

He smiled to himself as the Prophet locked him back in.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean, Sam & Charlie follow Crowley's coordinates to get some books and ingredients for the ritual to bring Cas' voice back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last chapter of the second part of my mini trilogy. I'm going to take a break from this little 'verse to edit the first two parts and outline the next and get it started.   
> In the meantime, I have another Canon 'verse fic to work on and my first full-length AUs that I'm pretty excited about.  
> Thanks for all who've read the first two parts, bookmarked, hit the Kudos.   
> You make me keep coming back.

Cas was pissed when Dean told him he was to stay behind with Kevin. He was lucky Cas didn’t have the power to smite him, or else his ass’d be dust. Especially since he and Sam decided to bring Charlie.

“C’mon Cas,” Dean cajoled. “I need you here. I need you safe. You _and_ Kevin. You’re both hot properties. And we need you guys to look through the vaults, see if we got what Crowley needs. You two are the best translators.” The words meant to placate just seemed to make Cas more furious but the arguments stopped.

He also refused to see the trio off, disappearing into the vaults with his own list.

Dean could deal with anger, could deal with hurt feelings. He couldn’t deal with dead. That’s why the two VIPs of the bunker were to be locked away, safely warded from all comers. Charlie had made sure there were enough provisions to last at least a week, and they had plenty to keep them busy.

Crowley’s coordinates sent them to the northernmost point of Maine. It was under a thirty hour drive, so Sam and Dean took turns driving while Charlie monitored her _De-dar_ \-- “It’s like gaydar, but for demons”--and life back at the bunker.

Neither Kevin nor Cas knew about the nanny cams that Sam and Charlie had installed in the common areas of the bunker, but they all, Dean especially, felt better knowing they’d be able to keep an eye on things without being there.

Dean was a nervous wreck. He and Sam hadn’t been more than a couple of hours away from the bunker since Cas got there. He refused to admit it to anyone but himself, but he was afraid of leaving only to come back and find Cas gone. He also refused to delve any deeper than _I need him here_.

They were a few hours from Estcourt Station when Charlie let out a laugh from the backseat.

Dean, who was driving, took a peek in the rearview. “What’s happening back there, Chuckles?”

“I’m watching Cas go apeshit on a piece of dough.”

“What?”

She leaned forward to speak over the seat. “He’s in the kitchen. Baking. Actually, at the moment, he’s beating the crap out of some dough, which I assume is for bread. Or pie.”

Dean rolled his eyes when his carmates snickered. “Yeah, yeah. Are we there yet?”

  
  


It was a storage facility. An entire storage complex, to be exact. One that employed approximately ten to fifteen demons, according to Crowley. And usually only four or five at one time. There was no one there between the hours of two and five a.m., so they had a limited time to get in and get what they needed and get back out before the morning shift showed up.

Crowley had given them an “all access” pass to his secret entrance behind an old bookstore, a quarter of a mile away and below street level.

The sneaking in wasn’t so bad, since they had the codes to get in. It was the creepiness of the getting to the actual facility that was the worst. Oh, besides the whole “there- _may_ -be-some-demons-inside-but- we-won’t-know-for-sure” thing since Charlie’s “de-dar”decided to blow up when they got within a mile of the place.

Since she wouldn’t stay in the car, Charlie got to man the flashlight while Dean and Sam led the way with Ruby’s knife and demon trap bullets (thank you, Grandpa Henry) in their guns. All was silent, but for the sound of their footsteps, and the skittering of critters here and there.

When they finally got to the main door at street level, Sam put in the code and Dean slowly opened the door, expecting demons to just start flying at them. They didn’t let their guard down when there were none; they just kept quiet and kept walking.

Charlie and Sam headed upstairs to the units Crowley had said contained the books they would need while Dean stayed on the main level, heading for the one unit he’d said held some of the most rare ingredients for spells.

“Don’t touch anything you don’t have to. Get in and get out,” Dean warned them quietly. “Meet me back here as soon as you can. If it’s over an hour, I’m coming for you.”

Sam nodded and gestured for Charlie to follow him. She squeezed Dean’s arm comfortingly before taking off after Sam.

 

They were literally in a demon’s den. In the middle of the night, when there didn’t _appear_ to be any demons around, but that almost made it worse. Dean couldn’t relax, not one little bit. He wasn’t going to be able to relax until he got back to the bunker with everyone intact. And not even then. But he could at least have the peace of mind of knowing that his family was all under one roof on the way to safety.

Rooting around in the King of Hell’s storage locker was nothing related to safe. It wasn’t even safe-adjacent, so Dean tried to be as quick as he could, finding the items on his list with few problems. Fortunately for him, Crowley was very organized. Hoping Sam and Charlie were having the same luck upstairs, Dean slipped the last ingredient into his “man-satchel” (thank you, Charlie), and closed and locked the door behind him.

He turned to head down the hall and ran smack dab into a moose.

“Sweet Christ, Sammy! Make a noise!”

“Sorry,” Sam apologized quietly, his smirk barely hidden in the dark.

“We got through the stacks fairly quick. Crowley and his minions are freaking _organized_ ,” Charlie explained. “Are you finished?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, patting the full bag. “Let’s get out of this Creepshow.”

“Wait! Didn’t you say Crowley said something about a unit being of interest to Kevin? Which one?”

Dean and Sam exchanged a silent look over Charlie’s head.

“Stop that! I’m right here! What’s the issue?”

“Charlie,” Sam began delicately, “there’s no telling what Crowley’s got locked up in most of these. We were lucky to get what we needed without too much trouble, and that’s with directions. It could be a trap.”

Charlie raised a brow and glared at the brothers. “Yeah, but what if it’s some heavenly WMD that only prophets can use, huh?”

Sam looked at Dean. “She could be right.”

Dean exhaled through his nose. “Fine. Unit 207. Let’s do this _quick_.”

Having been the ones upstairs, Charlie and Sam led the way. They found unit 207 at the very center of the complex.

“This is taking longer than it should,” Dean bit out. “We shouldn’t have come out here.”

“We’re here now, Dean, so let’s do this.”

Crowley had included the code for this unit on his list. He’d specified only Kevin would be interested in the contents, not that they would be needed for the ritual to get Cas his voice or his mojo back. Dean wanted to get the hell out, and _now_.

Once they got the door opened, they heard a shuffling noise.

“Guys, we gotta go.”

“Hang on, Dean.” Sam and Charlie shined their flashlights in the room, hitting on something in the far corner. “Wait. What’s that? Charlie, hit the lights.”

Once the lights were on, the three just stood there, staring, their jaws on the floor.

Charlie broke the silence. “Guys, is that--?”

“Yeah,” they both replied dazedly. “It is.”

“Holy. Shit.”


End file.
